


forged papers and other discrepancies

by JaMills



Category: SPY x FAMILY (Manga)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Xenophobia, Cold War, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Immigration & Emigration, Orwellian Dystopia, Papers Please AU, Softie Loid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27496444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaMills/pseuds/JaMills
Summary: The daily life of border inspector Loid Forger as he struggles to support his family among the impending war.Inspired by Lucas Pope's indie game "Papers, Please."
Relationships: Anya Forger & Loid Forger | Twilight & Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess, Loid Forger | Twilight/Yor Briar Forger | Thorn Princess
Comments: 13
Kudos: 33





	forged papers and other discrepancies

**Author's Note:**

> It's here and I'm happy, so I hope you guys enjoy it!!  
> Have a good read ❤️

_October 19th, 1972_

They received a letter with the Ministry of Labor's seal. Loid opened it and read the contents. He takes some seconds to fully absorb the words.

He was drawn on the October Labor lottery. Congratulations, it said the letter. He was now part of the working force of the newly opened Brieslin Border Checkpoint. He was to present himself at the city's Ministry of Admission in November to start his job.

When he told his wife Yor the news, she clapped enthusiastically and congratulated him multiple times, as if he had done it on merit. For the next weeks, she'd be practically fluttering in bliss at the thought of leaving their shabby village on Eastern Nielsberg's countryside. Yanna, his mother-in-law, was indifferent to the whole ordeal, probably not aware that her daughter would insist on her joining them so much that the old woman would have to tag along. Anya was secretly sad at the thought of leaving her few friends behind. Their dog Bond didn't have a say on it all.

And Loid? Loid was hesitant.

Being an immigration officer paid better than his low-rank lieutenant role for the local police station. He mostly worked with papers, so he didn't remember the last time he used a gun. To work in the border who staged the Six-Year-War was... unsettling, to be honest.

But he had to do this, for his family. It was humiliating enough they had to rely on government issued food stamps when his and Yor's salaries weren't enough to cover the house's expenses. Worse were the times they had the money to buy a good amount, but the food on the district just wasn't enough for everybody. He was tired of seeing one loaf bread being shared by four people on dinner time. He knew Yor thought the same.

Loid and Yor had been married for four years now. To say they had the most romantic love story together was an overstatement. Their marriage was one of convenience, or rather, of survival.

When his daughter was two, his first wife passed away. Even then, Loid couldn't say for sure he was in love with her. They were young, they survived the war, they had the same taste in music. It was more than enough for their isolated countryside village reality. He became a single father and realized it was hard to care for a child on his own. He missed having a wife, a person to welcome him home with a warm smile, someone he could talk after a long day of work who wouldn't chastise him for the veiled judgings of the government. Loid missed having a friend, a _partner._ He had been a pretty lonely widow in the following year of Mrs. Forger's death.

Then he met Yor on an inconspicuous bump on the bank and things hit if off quickly. Apparently they had been to the same school but their social circles didn't align, so they never noticed each other's presence. Yor liked Loid's calm and elegant demeanor, too different from the uneducated foes of their town. Loid thought she was hardworking and optimistic, two things far too valuable in a rebuilding country like Ostania. She needed a husband to quiet the gossiping mouths around them and he needed a wife to support him. They would work well together. And so they did.

That's how the new remodeled Forger family was formed. Anya was too young to hold on to her mother's memory at the time, so she opened up quickly to Yor and the feeling was reciprocal. Yor brought her mother to live with them, fearing she would feel lonely now that both her daughter and son were away. Yanna Briar never seemed to fully trust Loid, even more after that one time he unconsciously let a Westalisi idiom slip out that let the woman on full alert. He had to mention his former wife was from the West and he might have picked out a bit on her habits. That didn't stop Yanna from giving him weird looks now and then. But she had a soft spot for Anya, so things were mostly peaceful. She was a hundred times better than Yor's brother, anyway.

The last addition to the household would be the dog, Bond. He was an abandoned pup left on a cardboard box near Anya's school that luckily managed to survive the frigid winter night. Yor and Loid were reluctant on accepting that at first, considering the expenses. Yanna took Anya's side arguing that dogs kept mice away just like cats. Anya begged with tears in her eyes as she held the dog in her arms, promising she would do her best at taking care of him.

Tears would always be his weakness.

Loid relented with a sigh. In the end, Anya was an only child and they had a superpower on making their parents feel like they're not doing enough for them. He also felt guilty for not being able to give her a better quality in living. So she at least deserved a dog as a companion.

Apart from that four people plus dog arrangement, they didn't have much more people to rely on. Yuri Briar lived in the capital and pretty much despised Loid, but now and then he thought about the lottery being rigged when drawing him thanks to Yuri's connections in the military. After all, he cared deeply for his sister and a better paying husband was a good shot. Loid also had Sylvia, his sister, living in the neighboring county with her daughter. Sylvia was... a difficult case. Last time they met, Loid argued with her about her apparent involvement with smugglers and terrorists. No wonder her husband left her, that woman was insane thinking that was a safe and sound way of make a living. He just hoped she used that smart brain of their family to be careful around those strange people.

Unlike Sylvia, though, he now had a stable, respected and high-paying job that could support their family properly. He couldn't say it was safe, not yet, but he'd do his best to make the Forger household proud.

Glory to Ostania.

\--- 

_November 21th, 1972_

Today was Loid's first day at work.

They had been at Brieslin for a week now and were still adapting at their new life in the big city. It wasn't a capital, but Brieslin was way busier than their village. Yor thrived at all the options she had when going to buy groceries. Anya didn't seem to have many complaints about the new school. Yanna was still moody about the new grade-8 apartment, which managed to be even smaller than their house in Eastern Nielsberg. Loid saw this as a win, considering she didn't immediately pack her stuff to go back to their hometown. She needed time to adjust and so did him.

He took the bus to the border, which stopped two blocks away so he had to walk on foot. That gave him the chance to observe his surroundings. Across the short concrete wall that separated the two halves of the city, he could already spot a growing line of people who wanted to enter Ostania. They would need to pass him in the booth. If any trouble arised, there was one heavily armed guard on their side to solve the matter.

It was still just a single guard. He wondered if that would be enough.

Loid shook his head as he fixed his coat against the cold wind. The war made him an anxious person. He had to stop being so pessimistic about the unknown future, otherwise he wouldn't enjoy the rewards of his hard work. The government wouldn't open this border if things weren't safe between Westalis and Ostania. Everything was fine.

He walked over to the booth in which he would work daily. On his way, two young soldiers reverenced him and Loid, managing to hide his surprise, responded with a quick nod. He was a border officer now. It was a important job, with a good rank. People would respect his badge way more than they did in Nielsberg.

There was no one to welcome him into the new job. He knew it beforehand when signing up at the Ministry, where he received instructions. It was a lonely job in terms of coworkers and Loid still couldn't say if it was good or bad. He would still meet a lot of different people trying to cross the border, so it somehow evened it out.

The booth was small and stuffy, the type it would feel like hell for claustrophobic people. He was used to cold and damp offices, but that one looked pretty uncomfortable as well. Again, just one more thing he needed to get used to.

Loid took out his cap and coat to put on the hanger close to the door. He sat down on the leather covered rotary chair to read briefly on the official bulletin papers whose information he already knew. Just Ostanian citizens shall enter, no foreigners. Sounded easy for now.

Before officially starting his work, the man took out a small piece of paper from his pocket. A photograph of the Forgers, still not framed. Yor, Anya and Yanna sitting on a couch with Bond at their feet, Loid standing behind them. His family. His dear and precious family.

He left the photo roughly upstanding against a pen holder, making a mental note to give it a more honorable spot later. Now he could start his job properly.

"Next." He talked into the loudspeaker.

A young woman entered. Light skinned, brown hair, glasses.

"Papers, please." Loid said and she promptly slipped the passport across the counter.

"I'm glad the borders are open." She said with a smile. "Finally I'm returning home."

He nodded absent-mindedly, not one to make small talk as he checked her documents.

Darla Schmidt, age 32. Born in Ostania. Passport issued in Berlint. Nothing seemed wrong.

Loid stamped the passport with an "Approved" and gave it back to her.

"Glory to Ostania." He said as the woman left the booth. "Next!"

A middle-aged man, looking tired. Maybe he had been waiting a long time in line.

"Papers, please." Loid asked and received it with a grumble.

"This border check doesn't look safe." The man commented looking around. "They should put more guards."

Loid secretly agreed, but he wouldn't spend time on talking instead of working. The man, Bertram, was an Ostanian citizen. Passport also valid.

Loid stamped it green and returned it.

"Glory to Ostania." He said half-heartedly. "Next!"

The next dozen or so people went uneventfully, including two citizens from Lacrowia who were rejected because they weren't allowed foreigners yet. One of them looked pissed, but there was nothing he could do.

There was always something (or someone) to break the monotony, though. In this case, it was a blond woman with cherry red lipstick that looked at him with mischievous eyes through the glass panel.

"Hey, handsome." She said after passing her papers. "You look bored. This work must be tough on you, you should relax once in a while. I can help you."

Loid stopped his checking on the passport's issuing city to glance at he woman skeptically. Did he hear that right? She called him _handsome?_

As if reading his thoughts, the blonde slipped what seemed a business card over the counter. It was green with pink details, a phone number and a name, Lemoan, in cursive writing. With the lineart of a lemon on the corner, Loid thought he had misread; but no, it was really "Lemoan". As in "le moan". A genius name for a brothel.

"Pay a visit. Ask for Camilla." The woman winked. "We have the best lemon drinks in town."

Loid gave back her approved passport with a emotionless, almost annoyed, expression.

"I'm married." He said frigidly. Camilla just giggled. "Glory to Ostania."

The blonde left with no better goodbyes and the inspector sighed as he pushed the card to a corner of his desk. There would always be weird people at the border.

"Next!"

\- - - 

_November 27th, 1972_

Loid had yet to complete a week on his work, but he was already used to it. For now, it was an easy job. Yesterday, he had heard rumors of allowing entry for foreigners and that may make his task more difficult, but he was a fast learner. Things were also surprisingly peaceful, for now.

He still had to deal with a rather odd situation, days ago, in which a man with thick Westalisi accent entered the booth, no papers or anything, just to say:

"This open border was a mistake." And left without any more words.

Loid wouldn't lie and say that didn't make him dwell preoccupied on that, but he just shrugged it off as some pessimistic rumble and kept going with his work. If the Brieslin border check was a mistake or not, they still had to wait and see.

He entered his booth for a new day. From his suitcase, he took out an old photo frame he bought cheaply in a pawn shop. It would work perfectly for his family picture. He accommodated the photo on the frame and put it on the corner of his desk, his family watching him peacefully and reminding him to do his work fair and dutifully. It was a pleasant sight.

He checked the bulletin board and, as expected, they were now allowed to accept people from neighbouring countries such as Lacrowia, Nágyar, Roskistan... Even Westalis was included. It was to be expected, what a scandal it would be if every nation could enter Ostania but not the country they recently made peace with.

He left his notebook open and called into the loudspeaker.

"Next!"

The first five or so people went without any major occurances, two Ostanians, one Westalisi and two Lacrowians; all with the correct papers.

Then came the guy.

"Papers, please." Loid asked as a man entered the booth with a easy-going smile, a stub and a boater hat.

"Hey, man, finally. Ostania is the best country! I'm glad the borders are open, this makes things so easy!" The stranger babbled as if talking with an old friend.

Loid stared at him as an awkward silence grew between them, especially with the inspector's serious face and the guy's unfaltering smile.

"I need your papers." He asked again, patiently. Maybe the man had a problem with the language. "Your documents."

The guy blinked atonished at the request.

"Papers? Ostania is so great it doesn't need any papers, right? You guys are always so friendly!" He never stopped smiling as he said it. Loid didn't even blink.

"People need a passport to enter." Loid explained once again. This had to be the stupidest migrant he had encountered since starting.

"Okay, okay, I get it. I'll get ya some good papers, mate." The man nodded while fixing his hat. "See you next time."

Just like that, he left and Loid just rolled his eyes.

"Next." He called half-heartedly into the loudspeaker. Stupid people messed greatly with his mood.

\- - -

  
After a long day of work, Loid was glad to finally sit down for dinner and chat with his family about anything that wasn't passport or entry permits. Considering the many hours he spent reading documents and repeating the same protocol questions, even his mother-in-law's nagging was welcome.

  
He couldn't exactly say the same about his wife's cooking, but that was another matter. Yanna would take the dirty job of criticizing Yor's food and he could pass as a loving husband that loved everything his wife cooked.

  
As soon as he stepped into the apartment, Anya left her toys and Bond on the floor and ran towards him, hugging his legs. Yanna momentarily stopped her knitting to acknowledge his arrival with a glance, then went back to her to-be mittens.

  
"Papa, here!" Anya waved a folded paper with some drawings, although in a minimalist design that wasn't her usual choice. "Stamp my pack-sport!"

  
Loid took the paper and couldn't hold a smile as he payed attention to the details in the drawing. There was a handdrawn portrait of a smiling Anya, her first name, age and other curved lines to represent writing. She actually forgot the space for the stamp, but Loid would let it pass this time.

  
"Sure, let me stamp this." He put down his suitcase and picked her up, kissing her cheek as she struggled laughing.

  
"Silly Papa, you need to stamp the paper!" She pointed at her drawing on Loid's hand.

  
"Sorry, I'm a bit tired of papers, Anya. I'll stamp this properly tomorrow." He promised. "Now let me keep stamping you..."

  
"Nooo, stamp Mama!" Anya hid her face with Loid's stolen military cap.

"I heard someone call me?" Yor emerged from the kitchen wiping her hands onto the apron. Loid found it amazing how she managed to look pretty with a tomato sauce stain on her face.

"Papa is giving free stamps!" Anya announced proudly, still hidden behind her father's hat.

  
"He is?" Yor asked amusedly, only to be caught by surprise by a small, but still lingering, kiss on the corner of her mouth. Anya peeked from her hideout and giggled at her Mama's blushing expression and Loid's, slightly flushed, side grin. "Oh, what a sweet stamp. I should have dressed better for it..."

"You're beautiful even in a apron, Yor." Loid assured.

"Now stamp grandma!" Anya proclaimed. Everyone should get free stamps, it was _law_.

"No, thank you." Yanna promptly spoke up, not ignoring her mittens even once. "I'm too old for these... stamps. Specially from you, Loid."

  
Loid chuckled.

  
"It's nice to see you in a good mood, Yanna."

  
The woman let out a 'humpf' as Loid put Anya back on the ground and Yor told him that dinner would be ready in a moment. Judging by the non-burning smell, maybe his mother-in-law did part of the cooking that day.

  
It wasn't long before Yor told Anya to wash her hands and everyone sat down dinner. Tonight there was potato stew, bread and pork sausage for their meal. It wasn't too different from what they had in Nielsberg, but at least now they could take seconds.

"How was work today?" Yor asked as she helped Anya with the serving.

  
"Same as usual." Loid shrugged. "We can now accept foreigners. There are already people immigrating."

"Hm." Yor pondered. "Well, that must mean Ostania is a good place to live in some degree, I think?"

"Hmpf. Compared to Westalis, it's miles better." Yanna snarled before taking a bite on her pork.

"Mama, you've never been there to know..."

  
"I don't need to be there, Yor. Who restarted that damned war after decades? Westalis." Yanna threw back with a frown. "The westerners are butthurt they managed to be even poorer than us. This open border is a slap to their faces and I bet they're not happy."

"Mama, the language...!"

Loid mulled over those words as he chewed on his potato. Yanna did have a point in saying that there were Westalisi citizens that didn't accept the East Brieslin Checkpoint.

"They may dislike it, but with time they'll accept it." Loid commented. "There are lot of westerners that cross the border to work here, even permanent immigrants."

  
Yanna let out a snicker, the humor not quite reaching her aged auburn eyes.

  
"They'll be coming in flocks, now. The ones who aren't delusional and value food over nationalism." She pointed at Loid with the fork. "You need to keep your eyes open at this job, kid. There are people who are really mad at this open border and will try doing stuff to let out their anger. Stay alive."

"Mama!" Yor called out flustered, but her mother just went back to eating.

Even with such a morbid order, Loid knew it was Yanna's way of showing she cared for his well-being. She also wasn't wrong in her advices. Being a inspector in these trying times was quite dangerous.

  
For now, he'd just return to his eating and let work matters for tomorrow.

\--- 

_November 29th, 1972_.

That has been a busy morning, but Loid wasn't tired yet, already used to the repetitive work way back from his days at the village's police station.

Dozen or so of people crossed. Lots of foreigners. A Westalisi man was rejected because of outdated documents. Two Ostanian women didn't have an ID. A man had such an old photo in his passport that Loid had to check his identity with fingerprint matching. Another one had the issuing city spelled incorrectly.

As Loid was about to interrogate an old lady about why her name was written differently in her two documents, an alarm blasted all over the complex. Looking through the booth's small window, Loid stared as a man jumped over the concrete blocks into the Ostanian side of the border.

The lone soldier fires at the unknown man and miss it. On a second try, he actually shots the offender's head. Before that, the manages to throw a grenade at the soldier.

The scene is so horribly familiar to Loid he falls to the floor almost by instinct, arms over his head preparing for an explosion that would never reach him from that distance.

_Boom._

Louder than the bombing was the screams of the people on the Westalisi side, all running away and dispersing the long line as sea foam in the wind. One screaming voice was louder than the others.

When the inspector mustered courage to stand up, he did in time to see the guard being put on a stretcher by other soldiers. There was blood and a missing leg. From Loid's experience, the wounded officer was probably yelling at the shock more than at the pain. The one who caused all the commotion was just a corpse on the ground.

Loid breathed heavily. A terrorist attack. That's what just happened there. That's what that odd pessimistic man meant days ago: the East Brieslin Border Checkpoint was a mistake. There were people who absolutely didn't like the idea of Ostania and Westalis at peace.

He stared at the unmarred photo frame on his desk, where his family kept watching diligently his hard work.

Was this so-called better job really worth it in the end?


End file.
